


gunmetal dreams

by Astrological



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akira is deep in denial and I don't mean the river!, Angst, Dealing With Loss, Guilt, Hurt No Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, Self-Hatred, So is Akechi. they both are., Spoilers, bc they're gay, can be read as Gen!, except for like one paragraph, in which i tell you that its gay, introspective kurusu akira, sad and gay, so i dont know how to tag. forgive me., this is my first fic in years and my first on ao3 ever, this was supposed to have a happy ending but then i got drunk!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25671775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrological/pseuds/Astrological
Summary: He had ripped his friends from their perfect realities early, but he got all this extra time with his. Futaba’s mother was dead, Haru’s father was dead, and Goro Akechi was still alive. His greatest wish, of all things, was for Goro Akechi to still be alive. And so he was, boring holes into the side of his head with burning crimson eyes. Analyzing him.-MAJOR P5R SPOILERS THROUGH 2/2!!
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





	gunmetal dreams

**Author's Note:**

> yes, another 2/2 shuake oneshot.
> 
> this is the first fic i've written since. high school? and the first fic i've ever posted on ao3.  
> shuake brainworms were that strong, i guess.
> 
> i had a friend beta read bc i got plastered halfway through writing LMAO and was worried it wouldn't be coherent but she didn't say it wasn't so! here it is! 2k words of poetic nonsense.

He hadn’t slept well since that day in December.

At night, Akira found himself plagued with visions of heavy steel dropping from above; the feel of its impact against the floor reverberating through his bones in tandem with his pure  _ fear _ ; the closed-off look of finality in Akechi’s eyes as he pulled the trigger that would lead to his own certain death. The leather glove kept in his pocket had never felt heavier than it did in that moment, and yet. ( _ And yet.) _

Even when Akechi had shown up on Christmas Eve, a confident look in his eyes that yelled “ _ of course I’m alive, did you really think I would fall so easily? _ ”, unease kept Akira up late into the night. Was this real? Where had he  _ been _ ? How did he escape? He found himself afraid of the questions he couldn’t answer. ( _ Rightfully so, it turned out. _ )

And then he showed up and dragged him to the laundromat and they made a deal, an the thumping of Akira’s heart started to overpower the unease sitting in his stomach. Akechi was still here, and, right now, they needed each other, even if it is only business.

His ghost’s return to his life did not quiet the ghosts in his dreams. Night after night, steel walls blocked him from saving the one who needed saving more than anyone. Morgana stopped waking up when he did after about two weeks, for which Akira was grateful—he couldn’t take the knowing look of  _ pity _ in the cat’s eyes again or he might break down. He couldn’t afford to break down. Not now. Exhaustion must’ve wormed its way onto his face at some point in early January (“You’re too young to look so tired,” Sojiro had commented with a laugh at some point, between stirring curry and smiling warmly at Wakaba), but they made it through Maruki’s palace at about the same speed they had previous ones. Joker was as cool and collected as ever. Akira was tired. ( _ Even now, you… _ )

He didn’t seek out Akechi on their off-days. He didn’t dare spend more time with him than he had to, afraid of…. Afraid of what? He wasn’t so sure. (Or maybe he was.) Even on the days he found himself in Kichijoji looking for Sumire, when he might have gone out of his way to scope out the shopping district before circling back to the promenade where he’d find her, he didn’t notice Akechi in any of their old haunts. ( _ Ironic, considering— _ )

It was for the best for both of them, probably.

And then Sumire confessed her love at Leblanc, and Akira accepted with his trademark casual smirk, palm flat to the countertop keeping him sturdy as he leaned towards her. It was nice to feel needed. Her company would fill the void. ( _ Probably _ .)

His dreams remained stained gunmetal grey.

It wasn’t until the bell over Leblanc’s door that signaled Dr. Maruki’s exit chimed that Akira felt the exhaustion settle deeply in his bones. February’s chill was a prominent presence in the tiny café, and it felt symbolic of the cold pit in his chest. Akechi leaned against the counter casually, arms crossed as if they were just having another Phantom Thieves meeting, not discussing his imminent mortality. Though, he’d come to expect nothing less of his rival. ( _ Were they rivals, really? That’s what he had said time and time again, knowing how the word “friend” didn’t sit right on his tongue and would’ve received scorn. Neither word felt quite heavy enough to capture his emotions properly. They never would. Not that it mattered, now. It felt like nothing did.) _

Akira considers everything that lead up to this. Guilt gnaws at his stomach.  _ Of course _ Maruki hadn’t overlooked his wishes in creating his “utopia”—of all of the thieves, Maruki certainly knew him the best. They had connected on such a personal level and Akira had let his guard down far, far too early. Maruki knew him  _ too _ well. He gave him exactly what he wanted ( _ not that he had necessarily known it, or been willing to admit it _ ) without Akira even questioning it at all.

He had ripped his friends from their perfect realities early, but he got all this extra time with his. Futaba’s mother was dead, Haru’s father was dead, and Goro Akechi was still alive. His  _ greatest wish _ , of all things, was for Goro Akechi to still be alive. And so he was, boring holes into the side of his head with burning crimson eyes. Analyzing him. His reactions. Akira’s heart thumped heavily in his chest. He twirled his bangs between fingers as he stared intensely at the grain of the wooden table.

Takuto Maruki had analyzed his existence and realized that Akechi was Akira’s ideal reality. His dream.

Akechi was an integral part of his ideal reality.

What did it mean?

( _ You know what it means, coward. _ )

(And he does.)

“I will carve my own path for myself,” Akechi begins after a long silence, shaking Akira from his self-deprecative thoughts; Morgana had scampered upstairs after successfully reading the room, leaving the two alone. “I refuse to accept a reality concocted by someone else, stuck under their control for the rest of my days.” Akira stood to meet Akechi at (almost) equal height (as rivals, as teammates, as friends, as ???) and listen more thoroughly to his words. Panic laced through his veins.

“But then, you’ll…,” he couldn’t help but utter, his natural selfish tendencies surfacing without permission. The brunette scowled.

“So  _ what _ ?” Akechi scoffed. “That’s the path I chose.” His glare burned Akira more than any of the status inflictments from Mementos over the past year, which certainly said  _ something _ , given some of the new scars he had acquired as a Phantom Thief. “All you have to do is stick to your guns, and challenge Maruki.

“Or,” he said, eyes narrowing with mirth, “are you so  _ spineless _ that you’d fold over some over some  _ bullshit _ , trivial threat on my life?”

Akira’s heart dropped.  _ Trivial _ ? A sudden rage bubbled deep in his stomach, spreading a fire through his veins faster than he could even think about it.

“This isn’t  _ trivial _ !” He was all but yelling, defensive.  _ Nothing _ about Akechi’s life was  _ trivial _ . It angered him more than he could explain to see the man in front of him throw his own life away.

“It  _ IS _ !” Akechi hissed back. “Do you think I would be  _ happy _ with this? Being shown mercy,  _ now _ of all times? I don’t want to be  _ pitied _ —this isn’t something I’m  _ debating with you _ !”

Akira finds himself taken aback. It must have shown on his face, because Akechi looks disappointed when he shakes his head with a click of his tongue against his teeth.

“Your indecisiveness is essentially a betrayal of my trust.” Akechi admits. The words hit Akira like a punch in the gut. A cold wave over his body snuffed out the heat of his anger in an instant.  _ He _ was one to talk about betrayal. ( _ The guilt of that thought rushes over him quickly as well. Goro didn’t deserve that. Or did he? He technically was, by all intents and purposes, a murderer? _ )

“I want to hear you say it aloud. What do you intend to do?” Goro asks slowly, looking him dead in the eyes. Akira’s mind races.  _ Of course _ he’s going to fight Maruki. But was he not allowed to feel selfish? To have this moment of self-doubt and regret? To wish, just for a minute, that he could have a future with Akechi in it?

“I won’t wait a moment longer. Answer me.” Akechi all but begs.

Akira breathes in deeply through his nose.

“Obviously, we’re beating Maruki, but—”

“I will never accept this form of reality,” Akechi cuts him off. “I’m done with being manipulated. Let’s go back… to our  _ true _ reality.”

And Akira’s heart twists in his chest. He understands Akechi’s view so deeply (more than anyone else would, he can assume safely), and for the same reason, it hurts him. Goro Akechi, who had been dealt arguably one of the most unlucky hands in life, stood here, so unwilling to accept an ideal reality under the thumb of anyone but himself. Happiness was right there, and he turned up his nose at it for his ideals and the sake of the others. His eyes close as he takes in a deep breath, a deep weight relieved from his shoulders. Akira feels light-headed.

“We  _ have _ to win this—no matter what.”

And Akira nods, he does, but his eyes sting against his will.

“We will, of course, but—”

“But  _ what _ ?” Akechi sneers, turning back to face him. Akira’s heart clenches.

“But  _ please _ …. Let me be selfish, just for tonight. Stay here tonight.” He begs, willing back tears as he takes a small step forward. Goro’s eyes give away nothing.

( _ You’re pathetic. So, so pathetic. _ )

“Goro,” he tries again (and when had Akira switched to thinking of him as  _ Goro _ ?), but Goro’s eyes harden in an instant.

“And what good would it do? Relieve some of your self-inflicted  _ guilt _ over something that doesn’t even matter? Newsflash,  _ Kurusu _ , this is nobody’s fault but my own.” The venom with which Goro spits out his surname stings more in this moment than it ever had before, because he wasn’t  _ wrong _ , per se. “There’s no  _ point _ ! We’re out of  _ time _ !”

They had never  _ had _ time to begin with. Both knew it, but Akira can’t bring himself to point it out (“ _ If only we’d met a few years earlier,” he’d told him once. If only. If only _ ). He’s only aware of the blood rushing in his ears and the intensity of Goro’s glare and the weight of the glove in his pocket and.

And.

The weight of the glove in his pocket.

A deep breath in through his nose.

“I’m not going back on my word about Maruki, but you still owe me that duel. And I won’t let go of you until then.”

Goro takes a moment to process the intent behind his words, and then shakes his head with a light noise that could be taken as either a laugh or a scoff. For a moment, Akira is taken with the observation that Goro’s hair looks very soft. Akechi takes a step forward as he re-fixates his glare.

“I’m a dead man, Akira. You’re doing nothing but hurting yourself in hoping for anything more from me. You seem to forget that I’m  _ not a good person _ . _ ”  _ His anger becomes a bit less focused, a bit more wild. He tilts his head with a sardonic smile. “ _ I _ caused all the mental breakdowns. I’ve  _ killed _ people. Okumura’s  _ father _ . You should  _ hate  _ me. And yet you still insist upon sticking your nose into my life, time and time again.” It felt as though Akechi was trying to convince himself more than Akira. It didn’t seem to be working.

“I have betrayed you before, and our deal is almost over. Is it not ultimately more convenient for you that I won’t be around any longer after this? You had my manpower to get you through this final battle, and now I can’t possibly meddle with any of your further plans, Phantom Thieves or otherwise.”

It was Akira’s turn to shake his head. “We both know that if I had ever had any will to hate you, it would have happened already. And you’re right, maybe I should, but…” ( _ But I can’t. But you mean a lot to me. But I lo— _ )

“But I don’t,” he settles on after a moment of internal debate, taking another step forward. Akechi doesn’t seem totally satisfied with his pathetic admission, but he also seems tired of the argument. ( _ When has Goro ever gotten tired of a debate? _ )

_ And then he reaches forward and pulls Goro forward just a bit further so that their lips can meet, and feels for himself whether or not his hair is as soft as it looks when he runs his fingers through it. And then Goro responds more readily than he’d have expected him to. And then Morgana, who had been loitering near the bottom of the stairs, bursts in and announces he’s spending the night with Futaba before the two can head upstairs. And then Goro stays. And then they fight Maruki and he was bluffing and they both make it out of the palace just fine. And then. _

_ And then. _

And then Goro lets out a soft laugh, finally turning his body back toward the door of Leblanc.

“I should get going. Maruki really did wait until the last damned minute, didn’t he? The last train will be headed out soon.”

Akira lets go of a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Stay over tonight. I have some spare clothes you can sleep in.” He offers again.

“That’s won’t be necessary,” Goro says with another shake of his head, mask of the Detective Prince reforming over his face with an almost-polite smile as he prepares to head back out into the not-so-real world, “Good night, Akira.”

Akira can barely say it back before the tinkling of bells see Akechi out the door. ( _ Stop him! Stop him! Wait! Come back! _ )

(And he doesn’t.)

If Akira’s sobs wake Morgana up long after he goes to sleep that night, he doesn’t make it known. Tomorrow, once Maruki’s palace falls, Goro Akechi will be dead. And Akira Kurusu will have to find a way to live with that.

**Author's Note:**

> oh, you thought they were going to kiss and be happy? psyche, i'm too sad for that
> 
> feedback is appreciated since i am no writer and have much room to grow!  
> feel free to yell at me on twitter @namLkazeminato


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